Completely Ordinary
by INSANITY - BRILLIANCE
Summary: Ordinary. That word pretty much sums up Spencer Kent. Unlike the rest of his family he has alittle trouble standing out. But one doesn't always want to stand out right? Spencer didn't. He just wanted to stop living in his family's shadow and when they move to the small Quileute reservation of LaPush his wish is answered; however there's catch and Spencer's wish may not be all that.
1. Stuck in a Family of Geniuses

**Completely Ordinary  
Chapter 1  
**_**Stuck in a Family of Geniuses**_

* * *

Ordinary.

Yep, that word pretty much sums it up. It's an entirely normal thing for someone like me to feel. My family isn't what one would call normal. In fact to any outside perspective they're all insane, not the crazy lock you up in a padded room insane, but the brilliant Sherlock Holmes insane. You see I'm stuck in a family of geniuses and it is because of this that I am completely ordinary.

I guess to explain my family I would have to start with my parents. Elizabeth and Henry Kent are two of the most brilliant minds a person could ever come across. My mother, Elizabeth, graduated from Harvard Medical School at the top of her class and is now one of the most accomplished brain surgeons a person could ever meet. My father, Henry, is a rocket scientist. Yes, I did just say rocket scientist. You always hear those, "I'm not a rocket scientist," comments when someone doesn't understand something, but my dad can never use that excuse. He did try once, but stopped himself when he realized what he was saying.

But I'm getting a little off topic, my point is that with a brain surgeon and a rocket scientist it is only logical that their children end up being just as prodigy savvy as their parents. The only thing is that I'm not.

I have three other siblings, all brains, and then there's me. My younger twin brothers, Charles and James, are only twelve and yet they can both school me in mathematics, chemistry, and can build a robot that speaks seven languages, make toaster waffles, and fully comprehends Einstein's Theory of General Relativity out of nothing more than an toaster, a circuit board, a roll of aluminum foil, and a portable speaker that plugs into a headphone amp. I'm nothing like them.

My older sister Avery is even more brilliant than my younger brothers if that is hard to believe. Avery has always been the golden child, excelling at anything and everything she's ever done. I know that my parents put a lot of their hopes and dreams on her shoulders and while I feel somewhat offended that they don't expect as much of me as they do of her, there is a large part of me that breathes a sigh of relief. She is always under so much pressure that sometimes I wonder how she hasn't snapped. She is only nine months older than me, but unlike the rest of my family she realizes that I'm the outcast.

Avery has always been my fun, loving older sister. And as time has passed she has realized that I don't exactly measure up to the rest of the family, however she doesn't care either way. In fact she understands my predicament better than anyone else. I often feel like the rest of my family is running ahead of me on a path, leaving me behind, but Avery is different. She is holding my hand dragging me alongside her, encouraging me, "Come on Spencer, just a little further. You can hold out for just a little more."

She's always giving me complements, even in the most mundane and seemingly uninteresting things. Like last week she peered over my shoulder while I was doing homework and said, "Wow Spence, you have nice handwriting. It's so clear and precise." I couldn't help the small smile when she said that because that was the thing with my sister, she was always sincere and never did anything half assed, so I knew that she meant it. And there are other things too, she tutors me in my homework, comes to my football games (soccer if your American), never misses our weekly movie night. She is the one person in my family who makes me feel normal.

Although what's normal for a family of geniuses? I'd have to say that normal doesn't exist for my family and perhaps never will.

"Hey Spence," Avery came into my room and plopped down on my bed next to me, "What's up?"

"The ceiling," I muttered lying on my back. She laughed at my response and rolled her eyes, but otherwise made no comment.

"Aren't you excited? We start our first day of school tomorrow at La Push High," she said enthusiastically. I fought the urge to groan in annoyance. How can she be so happy about this? I hadn't wanted to move to Washington, it was too wet and too cloudy and far too small.

"Oh, yes I'd do backflips but I'm way too cool," I mumbled with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

Avery seemed to sense my displeasure, "I'm sure it'll be okay. You'll fit in here just fine. It's not like this is New York or London, everyone here could pass as our siblings."

"Not really if you think out it. Mom's only half Quileute which would only make us like one fourth. Besides our accents give us away," I pointed out. It was the truth we would only blend in here as long as we kept our mouths shut. Having been born and raised in England up until about two years ago when we moved to the shining city of New York, we have all very much retained our accents. Our father was a full blooded Brit, while our mother was technically American and from La Push, Washington.

"Kids dinners ready! Avery and Spencer should get down here before the twins turn it into a science project," our mother yelled from the base of the stairs. Avery turned to me and rolled her eyes. If there was one thing we had in common it was that we were both vexed by our twin brothers.

"Coming," she yelled back, standing up from the bed. "Let's go before James and Charlie turn the chicken into a bomb," she laughed, half seriously, sauntering out of the room to the kitchen. Knowing our brothers they probably could turn the chicken in to a bomb so I was quick to follow.

"Hey kids, where are your brothers?" Mum greeted us happily as she placed a bowl of mash potatoes on the table. Avery shrugged as she slid into the booth by the window. Mum huffed and walked back to the stairs, "Charles, James, dinner." I sat down beside my sister and started piling food on my plate. Mash potatoes, green beans, grilled chicken and rolls…_yum_.

My father sat off to my right reading over some papers from work. He had transferred to a branch in Seattle and could only come home on the weekends, while my mom took a job at the Forks hospital. The whole reason we had moved was because of our Grandma Ruth. My mum didn't want her to feel lonely now that Grandpa Charles had died which I perfectly understood, but Grandma Ruth wasn't lonely. It seemed to me that our moving here was utterly pointless.

It was then that my mother walked back into the room. "Henry, I thought we agreed to leave the scientific equations off the table," she chastised. My father looked up sheepishly and muttered a small apology gathering up the papers and placing them on the counter. Mum took her seat across from dad just as the terrible two came running into the kitchen.

"Avery can we barrow your stereo?" James, the younger and more polite twin, asked. He of course had the usual dark brown hair and olive/russet skin tone of everyone else in the family except for my father and he and Avery also shared the same gray-blue eyes that distinguished him from Charles.

Avery put down her fork, "Why do you need my stereo?"

"Because," Charles explained, "we're building a neuron transmitter so we can teach Raphael how to play the piano."

"Both of you leave that little rat alone. The last thing we need is a rodent that can play the piano," my mother scolded, "Now go wash up and so you can eat." Charles and James nodded solemnly before they ran back out of the kitchen to go was their hands. My father chuckled as he watched them leave.

"I remember when I was that age building robots, mixing rocket fuel, launching the lawnmower up into orbit. Those were good times," he sighed.

"Best not mention that last one to Charles or James. We don't want to give them any ideas," mum whispered. Avery laughed beside me at that remark as she smiled into her glass of water. "So kids," mum turned the conversation to Avery and me, "have you two finished unpacking?"

"Yep," Avery said grabbing a roll, "I finished this afternoon."

"I have one more box of CD's," I told them.

"I can't believe you two will be juniors tomorrow," mum sighed, wistfully. "It seemed like just yesterday you two were starting your first day of preschool and Avery was whining because you took her chips," she looked at me pointedly.

"Well I can believe it," Avery said ignoring the chips comment, "I'm checking out of high school as soon as I get accepted into a college. There was so much drama at Stuyvesant; a small school will be nice. Oh and I've finally perfected my American accent. Do you wanna hear it?"

"Sure," mum encouraged.

Avery took a sip of water and cleared her throat then launched into a long monolog. "I'm writing a letter. I can't write a letter. Why can't I write a letter? I'm wearing my green dress. I wish I was wearing my blue dress; my blue dress is at the cleaners. The Germans wore grey you wore blue. Casablanca, Casablanca's such a good movie, Casablanca, white house, Bush. Why don't I drive a hybrid car? I should really drive a hybrid car. I should really take my bicycle to work, bicycle, unicycle, unitard, hockey puck, rattlesnake, monkey, monkey, underpants," she finished slightly out of breath. Despite that however she didn't once drop the accent she had been so meticulous in perfecting.

"That was great, darling," father nodded, impressed, "but I still prefer your actual accent."

"Wasn't that a monolog from Gilmore Girls?" I asked.

Avery smiled and nodded, "I love that I have a brother who watches Gilmore Girls."

"I only watch them because you make me," I scoffed.

"I only made you watch the first three episodes. It was you who decided to have a marathon," she pointed out.

"So, Spencer, are you looking forward to starting school tomorrow?" Mum interrupted, derailing the impending argument. I looked back at her hopeful expression. Mum knew that I hadn't wanted to move, hell I hadn't even wanted to move from London, she was just hoping that maybe I was a little happy with the arrangement. But I wasn't.

"I guess," I murmured.

"Did you get into that advanced art course you wanted?" Dad asked.

"Yeah I did," I said a little more enthusiastically. Now while I consider myself to be completely average with everything I do, art is the only exception. It is still different from the rest of my family; there is no real brain work involved.

"It's a good thing I got you to do that portfolio," Avery nudged me with her elbow; "you would have been so bored with everyone else, learning the differences of pencil led and basic shading."

James and Charles returned to the kitchen at this point and sat down putting food on their plates. I looked over to them, watching as they very meticulously separated the green beans and the mash potatoes. "Charles, James, did you two finish unpacking?" Mum asked the same question she had asked us.

"Yes," James answered not looking up from his plate.

"I was thinking of inviting Uncle Grant over on Sunday. It's been a few years since we've seen him or Brady," Mum started, "I'm not going to be on call, so it should be the perfect time to catch up. We could cook steaks and play trivial pursuit or monopoly." Avery frowned beside me. She wasn't particularly fond of our younger cousin, Brady.

Brady Fuller was without any better way of putting it, completely ordinary. He was much like me, just a few years younger. We had only actually met him once. About five years ago both he and Uncle Grant stayed with us in London during the summer for about three months. During that time he had followed my sister around like a lost puppy. You know those child-like crushes. Suffices to say she wasn't very pleased with the idea of reconnecting with our cousin.

"Now Avery, don't make that face," mum remarked when she noticed her frowning, "I'm sure Brady has grown out of the crush phase. Besides it's not like anyone could blame him for it. Even your brother notices that you are abnormally attractive."

_Well this conversation just got awkward._ Avery and I seemed to be thinking the same thing at that moment. Avery opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. "What's the name of the three-headed hound that guards the gates of the underworld in Hades realm?" She blurted out a trivia question. It was the Kent family code, when in doubt turn to trivia.

"I believe its name was Cerberus," dad said thoughtfully.

"Oh are we playing trivia? I love trivia," mum said clapping her hands. Her eyes lit up with unspeakable child-like wonder as she thought of a question. "Year 1525 is significant to German history because—?"

"It began with the Peasants' War that was spearheaded by Thomas Muentzer," Charles answered matter-of-factly.

"What is the name of the three Hindu deities?" Dad asked.

"Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu," I answered. It turned out to be the only trivia question that I answered. The rest of the time I sat quietly and watched as my family shot questions back and forth across the table. I was just fine with not participating, a lot of the questions I didn't even know, while the rest were ones that I knew but had forgotten. It was only an hour of this until we had finished eating and mum had ushered us all to bed. We all had an early day tomorrow, mom going to the hospital, dad driving back to Seattle and the rest of us starting our first day in a new school. I didn't have to be a genius to know that we were all going to stand out. That was just how things worked. I only hoped that maybe, I could finally find a place where I would blend in and not have to live in my family's shadow.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you for reading the first chapter of Completely Ordinary. I really shouldn't be starting another story, but I can't help myself. This story will be told from Spencer's perspective and possibly Avery's. I put some facts to keep in mind as you read below. **

_The Kent family is cousin's to the Fuller's by the mother, Elizabeth. Grandma Ruth is a full blood Quileute. Elizabeth grew up in La Push but went away to Harvard where she met Henry, then the two of them married and moved to England and raised their kids. They moved back to the States one year after Uncle John, Henry's brother, died in a 'car accident'. _

_Family Tree:_

_ Ruth-Charles Carol-Lewis_

_Joyce-Grant|Elisabeth-Henry|John_

_ Brady| Avery|Spencer|Charles|James_

_Ages:_

_Avery-17 Spencer-16 Charles &amp; James-12_

_Both Avery and Spencer are Juniors. _


	2. Not an Ordinary Girl

**Completely Ordinary  
Chapter 2  
**_**Not an Ordinary Girl**_

The Ritz Carlton, Five Star Luxury, Hotel.

I can't believe I'm standing here. I shouldn't be standing here. I should be in bed like the rest of my family is at 3 a.m. I paused, thinking about it, '_Bed. That sounds really good right now.'_ But no, instead I'm here in freaking Washington, D.C., on the other side of the country. I have to wake up in three hours to go to my first day of school. This is all Zanner's fault…

* * *

"Hello," I mumbled, groggily into my cell phone. It had been ringing insentiently for the past five minutes, whoever it was couldn't get it through their thick skull that I was dead asleep.

"Milton, is this a bad time? Are you awake?" A deep British voice sounded on the other end. I groaned and looked at the clock, 9:30 p.m. flashing in bright red. I had only been asleep for 30 minutes? "I'll assume that by that groan, that means you aren't," the voice continued.

"Zanner what are you—" I started but was cut off.

"There is a car coming to pick you up. It should be in front of your house in about five minutes. Is that sufficient time for you to get dressed?" He asked me.

"Get dressed for what?"

"For work of course," he answered.

I stuttered, "For work-Zanner-I-I have to wake up for school in about nine hours."

"No, you have to be home for school in about ten hours," he corrected me.

"But—"

"This is a matter of national importance, Avery. You were the only one we could call. The only one that would get there in time," he said using my first name.

"In time for what?"

"I'll brief you on the plane. Just get dressed and be down stairs in four minutes. There'll be coffee waiting for you," that was all he said. I glanced back at the clock and then at the phone in my hand. I took one last look at the clock, "Oh bloody hell," I cursed throwing the covers off of me and grabbing some clothes.

True to his word there was a car waiting for me outside once I threw on some clothes and climbed out my window scaling down a tree. It was a black, nondescript, 2007 Hyundai Sonata with tinted windows. Not that they would have much use now a few hours past sundown. I quickly crossed the front lawn and got into the back seat. The driver handed me a tall Starbucks with a polite, "Ms. Kent," and then pulled out onto the road.

I sat back and sipped my coffee, letting the extra caffeine wake me up. "Where are you taking me?" I asked the driver.

"Fairchild," he told me.

I sat in silence as I pondered that. '_William R. Fairchild International Airport._'Zanner didn't give me much information over the phone; he didn't tell me where I was going. He mentioned a plane, so wherever it was that I was need I certainly couldn't get there with a car. "Did they tell you what this was about?"

"No Ms.," the driver answered, "I was only instructed to pick you up and drive you to the airport."

It took us about 17 minutes of driving 20 miles over the speed limit for us to reach the airport. We pulled through one of the special entrances to plane hangars. There Zanner would be waiting for me on the steps of a private jet to take me to wherever it is he's going to take me. As we slowed to a stop, I gave a quick word of thanks to the driver before I climbed out of the car into the open night air.

Zanner was standing in the door of the plane looking just as dapper as ever. He was wearing a dark navy blue suit with a pristine white collar shirt and pinstripe tie. All tailor made by the way. It wasn't enough that he was, without a better way of putting it, ruggedly handsome on his own with golden blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and sly smile that when paired with his charming words can make even the most obstinate people bend to his every whim. Mum commented once that if he wasn't already married (as was she) and she wasn't twice his age, she'd tap that. (Which was way too much information. I don't typically like thinking of my work colleagues that way.) "Well don't dawdle, Milton," he remarked once he saw that I hadn't started moving, "we have to get you back home in time for school."

"So now you care about my education?" I observed. '_Where was this concern 30 minutes ago when I was trying to sleep?'_ I walked up the steps and entered the plane. It was just as posh as you would expect, padded tan leather seats, a bar, and a glass coffee table in front of a couch. I took a seat and buckled my seat belt as the plane doors closed.

It was only about five minutes after we were in the air that I spoke, "Where are we going?"

Zanner regarded me, coolly and removed a file placing it on the coffee table. "José Maria da Silva Paranhos," he said as I picked up the file.

"The Viscount of Rio Branco?" I asked.

Zanner nodded. "We have reason to believe he'll be assassinated at 0700 hours. You are going to make sure that it doesn't happen," he told me.

I was surprised at that, "I'm going to? What about you?" Zanner was my partner on many of my assignments it was strange that he wouldn't be coming with me. At the age of twenty-six he was much more qualified for this job than I was. It was a little strange actually if you took a moment and thought about it. A seventeen year old girl paired up with a twenty-six year old guy.

"My job is to make sure you make it out in one piece and to get you home in time for school. Everything else is irrelevant," he replied.

"Okay so what do we got?" I asked reading the information in my hands, "Washington D.C.? Are you serious?" I looked up appalled by the revelation. I would never make it home in time.

"I'll make sure your home in time for school. Your parents won't even know what happened," Zanner assured me.

I sighed. "What's the security like?"

"He is staying at the Ritz Carlton Hotel in the 2500 square foot Ritz Carlton Suite. There are four body guards, three in the room and one in the lobby. The guard in the lobby is the weakest link, so he's the one who's going to be taken out first. Find him and you'll find the hit team," he told me.

I flipped through the information in the file. The guards schedules, the lobby floor plan, the room floor plan, and of course emergency exists. Everything was in its place. "After you take out the hit team, evacuate the viscount from the building and take him to the Brazilian Embassy," Zanner added once I had handed him back the file.

"So I just bust in there, take out the hit team, and take the viscount to the Embassy. That doesn't sound difficult in the slightest," I said sarcastically.

"Well this might help," Zanner chuckled as he reached into the inside of his jacket. The material moved away to expose the holster and his 22 Browning Pistol. He slipped something out and handed it to me. "Now since you're technically still a minor, you're not allowed to carry a weapon. But this should help you with the viscount if he tries to resist," he handed me something that looked very much like a gun. It was a little bulker, but lighter than a normal pistol. "It's a stun gun," he explained.

"Oh, well thanks. I guess."

Zanner nodded and brushed his short blonde hair from his face, "It's a three hour flight to D.C. so you should probably get some sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there." I wasn't going to argue with that. I let out a tired yawn as I curled up on the sofa and went to sleep.

* * *

'_Okay, deep breath,'_ I told myself. There was no telling what awaited me inside, but I couldn't dwell on it any longer. I was wasting precious time and with each second I stood on the pavement it was one more second that I might be too late. So with one last deep breath I gather upped my courage and entered the hotel lobby.

The lobby of the Ritz Carlton was what you would expect any five star luxury hotels to look like. The furniture all handpicked by some acclaimed designer and deep mahogany wood gave the room a more entitled atmosphere. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling casting bright light on the lobby. The desk clerk was busy playing what I assumed to be solitaire on her computer. At first glance nothing appeared to be wrong. But I knew that not everything was as it first appeared.

The first thing that I noticed as I walked into the room was that the body guard was missing. Of course I couldn't jump to conclusions, but the information I was given made me more alert. I mapped out the floor plan in my mind to find the closest bathroom. Bathrooms were always a good place to take people out. Lots of hard surfaces, perfect for smashing someone's face without breaking your hand.

"Four down," a deep voice reverberated off the tile walls. I could hear everything clearly as I crept closer. There were two of them. They spoke in quite hushed tones and I was able to hear the gist of what they were saying.

"It won't be much longer now," the deeper of the voices spoke.

The second voice, the higher voice, whispered something to his partner. Even with the echo in the room I couldn't understand what it was. It was when I neared the corner of the entrance that the walkie-talkie sounded causing me to pause in my approach. "Gastavo report in. Gastavo… Gastavo?"

"That should do it," the second voice said.

"I sure hope so."

The two men's heads snapped up to meet my eyes. The one to the right standing by the sink, the first voice, was brawny and wide. This was heightened by the bellhop uniform that seemed to strain at the seams to accommodate the sheer size of his muscles. The second one was taller and leaner and the uniform that he wore was slightly baggier, but that in no way obscured the physical strength that they both possessed. They were athletes, the both of them. Lucky for me I am an athlete too.

Confusion flickered past their faces before the brawny man pulled a gun from the inside of his jacket. With one well aimed kicked, I knocked it out of his hands. He was quick to swing a fist towards me, but I was quicker and twisted his arm behind him. It was then that his partner lunged at me and I kicked him in the gut with the heel of my foot, thus knocking him down.

With one well aimed blow to the man's temple he was rendered unconscious. I let his form drop to the floor with a thud.

It was then that an arm wrapped around my throat. I struggled in the choke hold as the second man began to cut off the blood flow to my brain. In ten seconds I was going to be unconscious so I had to do something, and fast. I stopped struggling, letting my arms go limp and fall to my sides. This wasn't what he had been expecting me to do and I used that to my advantage. As his hold loosened ever so slightly, I took a step back further into his chest and slammed my elbow into his ribcage. This allowed me to break from his hold and sent a kick to his stomach.

He quickly shot back and hit my ribs. Pain erupted in my side as I was pushed back. '_That was going to leave a bruise,'_ I thought absently. He tried to land another blow toward me, but I twisted under his arm and grabbed his face slamming it into the counter. There was a sickening crack of cartilage as his nose was smashed into pieces before I let him slip from my grasp and fall lifeless to the floor.

"Well that could've gone better," I muttered surveying the damage. The two unconscious forms of the men thrown unceremoniously on the floor, both were worse for the wear. I quickly straighten my clothes and then marched out of the bathroom to the elevator.

The Ritz Carlton Suite was on ninth floor. I was the only one standing in the elevator, but my mind couldn't help wandering for the brief moments I waited. They should really change elevator music. It's always so calm and peaceful, a little jazzy. There were moments when I enjoyed it, however right now it was simply hampering my mojo. I wasn't one who wanted to listen to Mozart's Prague Symphony while I was willing myself to get up the nerve to face immediate danger head-on.

The elevator dinged when it reached the ninth floor. It seemed like only a few seconds had passed and I certainly wished that the ride lasted a little longer. But alas I had to leave the comfort of the elevator. Two men were standing outside the doors as they opened. I immediately recognized them from the pictures that Zanner showed me on the plane. These were the body guards.

I made sure not to stare at them as I brushed past. They didn't even notice me. I mean who would? I was only a seventeen year old girl. I was inconspicuous. It was for that reason I started working for Richard Thicke to begin with.

Richard Thicke was my boss. He was the one who gave me my assignments through Zanner. You see, I work for a special division of MI6, Interpol, and the CIA. Unbelievable, I know. I am basically James Bond mixed with Angelina Jolie. But because I'm a minor it's off the books.

It all started three years ago when I was fourteen. My uncle John had died in a 'car accident'. I use the air quotes because it wasn't an accident. Of course the only other person who knows this is my brother, Spencer. Anyways Uncle John worked for Richard Thicke at the 'Holmes and Foust Bank' which really turned out not to be a bank at all. Long story short Mr. Thicke recruited me to go on an undercover spy mission, it was only supposed to be a onetime thing, but I apparently did so well that they insisted that I continue my work for them.

After my first year we came to a sort of agreement, more of a contract really. I work for them during high school and when I graduate they will pay for me to go to any college of my choice along with grad-school, pre-med school, law school, etcetera… They would also pay for living expenses, travel to see my family, and anything else I could possibly need. I'd be a fool to turn that down. But you see the contract was nonnegotiable, I had to work for them whether I wanted to or not. Paying for my education was just a courtesy in hopes that when I do graduate I'll chose to continue working for them.

There was no chance in hell that was happening.

I was considering on how best to approach this situation. I couldn't merely knock on the door and say, "Hi, no time to explain but I'm here to save your life." That wouldn't go over well. There was also another body guard I had to contend with… maybe I could just knock them out. Unconscious people are generally easier to move in these situations. However in a matter of seconds I had arrived at the door of the suite.

I didn't have any more time to think about it. '_Oh well, here goes nothing,'_ I thought before I raised my fist up and gave three solid knocks on the painted white wooden door. There was a brief pause as I waited for anything to happen, but of course it didn't. 'Time to resort to drastic measures,' I thought solemnly as I slipped the stun gun out from under my jacket.

There was a short period in which I hesitated. Maybe what I was about to do wasn't the best decision. It probably wasn't –no it definitely wasn't. Nevertheless I didn't have much of a choice in the matter. I had things had to do, places to be. There was no time to be polite about this. So with that thought in mind I raised my foot and kicked in the door. Etiquette be damned.

I made quick work of the body guard standing by the door with a well-aimed kick to his head that knocked him out cold. The viscount was cowering; slowly backing toward the bedroom. A small portly man, with a high slanted forehead and long bulbous nose, he certainly looked like a politician. He had a thin mustache growing on this upper lip that quivered as he quivered –with all the quivering it made it seem like a caterpillar that was crawling across his face.

He shot a panicked look at the stun gun in my hands and took another step back. There was no more time for stalling and as I approached him I didn't give him the chance to utter a plea before I pulled the trigger and knocked him out cold. There was a metal cart sitting not too far from his limp form. I was able to haul him up onto it and use a white sheet from the bed to cover his body as I pushed him down the hallway towards the service elevators.

Of course it couldn't have been that easy. I came to a grinding halt by the elevators.

There standing not four feet ahead of me was a man. That in itself is not spectacular. What was spectacular however was the 22 Glock in his gloved hand with a matching silencer. '_Oh shit,'_ I cursed mentally as I eyed the weapon with caution. This was not going to end well.

As we stood there appraising each other –waiting for the other to make the first move –a certain quote came to mind. '_Are you gonna pull those pistols or whistle Dixie?' _It was almost like some old Clint Eastwood western, though I had no clue which of us was Eastwood and which of us was the union soldiers that would inevitably end up dead. And as I stood there I contemplated what I was even doing there.

I was only a kid –seventeen years old –not even a legal adult and here I was standing in front of a man, a trained killer, just because some guy in a suit with grey slicked back hair ordered me to save some pudgy Politian's life. Sure Thicke had the power to destroy my family, make my life a living hell, and take everything that I hold dear –but what was the point in the end? And that's what I most definitely was looking at, the end. My family would morn me of course, nonetheless they'd continue on with their lives best they could. Just because someone dies doesn't mean the world stops spinning. And what about me? I haven't even started my junior year and already my life has been threatened more times than I could possibly count, which is neither normal nor healthy. '_What an utterly pathetic existence,'_ I thought bitterly as the man tightened the grip on the gun and began to raise it toward me.

I watched calmly as he brought the barrel of the gun up to his waist and –_paused_? My attention was diverted momentarily as one of the other suite doors swung open and a family of four exited their room. The husband and wife in their late forties with two kids, a girl and a boy, walked out into the hallway. None of the family took any noticed of the strange scene they had just walked into, a girl about my age was too absorbed in her texting to pay attention and the parents were too busy arguing about room service charges to care much about anything else, however it was the scrawny little boy who's eyes wandered over to me as he passed, eyeing the white mass on the cart. He green irises widened in alarm as his eyes flickered over to the man who had subtly slipped the Glock into his dark trench coat, yet not before the boy was able to take notice. He quickly caught up with his parents shooting worried looks over his shoulder, obviously not sure of what to do.

My own eyes fell back on the man standing across from me. He slid his hands into his pockets steadily, not once taking his eyes off of my face. His dark brown eyes studied mine with a sort of cold malice behind is black rectangle framed glasses. He had light grey hair and a scar trailing up the side of his face, similarly to that of lightning across the sky. From his pocket he removed two cold steel knives. Each blade was only three inches long and curved outward and with how he held them I could tell that he was an experienced knife wielder. I watched out of my peripherals as the family approached the elevators knowing that the second those doors closed obscuring their view the man would lunge with the knives.

I tightened my grip on the metal cart, getting ready to run him over.

I heard the elevator ding as the doors slid open and I leaned down preparing to push off of my feet into a sprint. It was then that the most amazing thing happened. By some miracle the body guards that I had pasted on my way out of the elevator had returned back to the ninth floor stepping out of the elevator that the family had been waiting for.

"Hey," one of the guards called out coming towards us. They had obviously seen the white lump on the cart putting two and two together.

The man standing across from me reacted to the guards; disarming one of them when he pulled out his firearm and slicing the others throat. I used the distraction to sprint past him and down the hall. It took me a total of twenty-one seconds to make it to the loading dock where the viscount limo was parked and it took me another three seconds to load the viscount into the back of the limo.

There wasn't a lot of time left. The man from upstairs was sure to have disposed of the two bodyguards by now and was now probably on his way after me. As if on cue a bullet whizzed past my head causing me to duck. I sprint to the driver's side of the limo and got in quickly. Luck seemed to be on my side as the keys were already in the ignition as the limo drivers never bothered to take them out.

Another shot fired at the back window and I ducked in response turning the key as I did. The engine roared to life and I stepped on the gas petal. The limo lurched forward and peeled away from the curb as two more shots were fired bouncing of the metal of the car and shattering one of the back tail lights.

My eyes flickered to the rearview mirror as the man in the black trench coat got further and further away. Thank God. I was safe; everything was going to be okay. I thanked whatever deity was watching out for me. "That was too close of a call," I sighed loosening my grip on the steering wheel.

* * *

"Welcome back," Zanner greeted once I had boarded the plane. He smiled warmly and gave me a hug like we haven't seen each other in years. This was a complete 180 from his personality this morning when he was all business. Now this was the Zanner that I liked; the one that new how to laugh and make jokes. He gestured for me to take a seat as we waited to the plane to be in the air again.

"Another job well done Milton," he said reclining back on the chair.

"Really? I thought it was a little too close to call," I replied.

"Maybe just a tad," he shrugged, "You did good though. Couldn't have done it better myself. You have all your limbs, no visible injuries, nothing that would lead your parents to think you were on a job."

"Thank God for that. Mum would've killed you had that not been the case."

He visibly winced at those words, "Yes, well your mother kind of frightens me and she's always pinching my butt."

I laughed. "It's not like you can blame her," I told him, "it's a nice butt."

"Milton—," he warned.

"No it is," I teased, "It really is a great butt." It was fun to see Zanner all flustered. It was even more fun to see him interact with my mother. The woman knew just how to push his buttons to get him all embarrassed.

"Can we please stop talking about my butt?" He begged.

"You started it," I told him, "but okay. How's Hana?" It was always a safe topic to bring up is daughter. She was just the cutest little girl ever and Zanner was always a proud father.

"Hana's fine. She'll be starting school in the fall," he beamed.

"Hana's starting school? You're so old. It seems like just yesterday she only learned how to say the word Popsicle," I sighed. "How's her horseback riding lessons going?"

"Good," he answered, "she got within three feet of the thing last week."

"Impressive."

Zanner laughed, "she thought so."

We continued on like that for a while until the plane had taken off and we were flying at an elevation of twenty thousand feet. I looked out the window watching the expanse of clouds zooming past the plane. It was silent for a moment and I could feel Zanner observing me curiously. "Are you nervous?"

My attention snapped back to him. "About what?"

"Starting a new school," he said.

I was quite thinking it over. "Yes, but I shouldn't be," I muttered.

"It's only natural to be a little scared. I'm sure you'll do great," he said.

He was right of course. I didn't die today. I shouldn't be worried about starting a new school. How bad can a couple of teenagers be? If I survived this high school should be a freaking piece of cake. Jocks and cheerleaders won't be a problem and if they are I can deal with it. After all I'm not an ordinary girl.

* * *

**Okay the second chapter is here. Wow that was exhausting. Writer's block is a pain to write with let me tell you. Anyways I'm back. Hopefully I can start updating all my stories more often now. Fingers crossed. **

**Please review and tell me what you guys think of Avery. This chapter is a little different but I thought it was good to really show the anomaly that is the Kent family. Though the next chapter will be written back in Spencer's perspective again and I will finally get to bring in some of the La Push gang. Yay!**

**Fun Fact:**

**The Viscount of Rio Branco was actually a real person. He lived in the 1800's and was a beloved diplomat. **


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